This Moment {The Very First for the Third Time}


This moment.  
A Friday ritual.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment.  A moment I want to pause, savor and remember because it’s what life is all about.


It was the very first day for my third time.  
Olive started preschool at the thoughtful and loving space her sisters love.  She was so ready, so much more than I wanted to feel, than I was ready to feel. All summer, she beamed as she spoke of this day, filling the awkward space in a heart felt the world over when mamas release their babes from arms, from homes, from immediate sight.  I knew she was ready for learning within a new space, with new friends and for lack of better description this time in our lives is just moving so fast.  It really does feel like yesterday when she took first steps, first solo journey down a slide.
She lept from her bed in the shape of a boat with a, Yea, Mama!  I go now to school.  It’s today! and she picked her just right kitty sweater dress and perfectly fuzzy, perfectly her style thrifted new-to-her coat.  

We went on a special Daddy muffin date to speak of all the new memories she was about to make.  I kind of wanted to swaddle her, carry her around on my hip all day.  I kind of wanted to cry, but she was so thrilled and so happy I just let it all be and let me be proud to be her Mama.
In Springtime, Olive chose an eagle for her cup and wondered what color her napkin would be.  She was excited to share a cubby with her big sister, smitten with the teddy bear slippers that live at her new school.  
Today I get my slippers and my napkin and my new eag-gy cup and a space to hang my pretty coat and new friends and… Olive couldn’t stop talking.  
I went out to breakfast with a mama friend.  We ate slow, didn’t cry and spoke of when they were babies.  
I spoke of wanting so badly to take back the days after no sleep, the days of incessant crying and fussy teething.  The days where nothing seemed right, where I’d close the door and call this friend and say I just wanted a little time to myself.  Where I locked the bathroom door and tearily sipped my coffee in a dark room.  I wished I could take all those thoughts of escape and doubt back, be present and cherish even those tough moments for their fleeting presence.  
I wanted that time back.
My friend reminded me we were there, in every moment.  
Yes, she was right.  Leaving my job eight and a half years ago to be a Mama was the best sort of choice, the best sort of work even on not the best sort of days.
And then the clock turned to just before afternoon.  
Olive had a good day, a great day and we had the best sort of hug when I picked her up.
She had so many stories for me and I couldn’t wait to hear them all.
I took her on a picnic, just the two of us at our favorite secret picnic spot.  
I had a good day, a great day.  


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